#science fiction writing
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There are massive warships. Things that are the size of stations but that can move more swiftly through hyperspace and real space than any other object created by humans or gods. They're not like the warships you imagine, they're like entire divisions of the military, some of them have the populations of small planets, the largest of them have populations higher then earth had before industry came to it.
It only takes one of these ships to comquor a system. Though they often have smaller ships swarming them, like the microorganisms on your skin. And when they fight eachother, holes are torn in hyperspace, and heavily bodies become asteroid belts. Even the weapons that can destroy planets can't take ships like this down in one hit.
Inside the ships are entire societies, of humans, cyborgs, robots, and strange organisms generated by human science. Many of them soldiers who exist to serve as the ships troops, especially since a boarding action is the fastest way to take them down, but many are there for other reasons. You need an entire society to support a ship like that and all the troops it can carry, from workers who maintain the ship, to traders who bring new recourses on, to artists and teachers and lawyers and all the other things that end up as needed when there's that many people.
Some of these ships are so large and so deep that there are people on there who've never seen the world outside their machines of war. And some isolated parts of those ships, who've been within the depths of the endless machinery for so long, that they've lost contact with the more outwards facing parts of the ship society. Tribes and towns within the dark mechanical labyrinth who don't know they're on a warship, who don't even know planets exist.
And they say, that as the loyalty of a ship fades from the empire that built it, that the ship may come to be controlled by many nations, vying for control of the ship's flight. They say that within the depths of some war ships, wars are fought.
#196#my thougts#worldbuilding#writing#my worldbuilding#my writing#original fiction#flash fiction#short fiction#short story#scifi#scifi writing#scifi worldbuilding#science fantasy#science fiction#sci fi#science fiction writing#science fiction worldbuilding#space#deep space exploration#far future#spaceship#spacecraft#space exploration#outer space
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Weight
It moves as if learning to walk again. I give no signal that I see it. Just let it stumble toward me, exertion dripping from each clumsy jolt.
“I found it harder today, Miss” it says, smiling weakly.
“Oh?” I feign surprise, holding out my hand for the cup. Whisperbone with gold pleats, so thin it’s near translucent. Fragile to the point of decadence. It places the tea onto my flat, outstretched palm, trying to control the shaking in its exhausted limbs “Sounds like you need another.”
The glint in its eyes darkens and I feel my mouth go wet.
“B-but-” it begins.
I quiet the protest with a raised eyebrow.
I tie the straps tight - two on each arm, two on each leg, one across its forehead, a gag across its mouth – then test the HotPoint. A single, blistering white dot radiates from its tip.
“Pain is a process.” I remind it as I make incision. It tries to flinch, squirm. I know this is not rejection; our bodies play saboteur to the lives we yearn for. And I *am* sheering open its calf with a laser hot enough to melt lead, after all. A little resistance is expected.
The HotPoint is as exact as it is excruciating. Seven dermal layers down I find the sweet spot: loose enough for an insertion but too deep to remove the weight without it clawing itself open. “We need you strong” I remind it “You want to be strong for me, don’t you?” It cannot speak, nor nod, nor move, but it blinks at me.
The sheet is an ultra-condensed steel alloy. Magnetised, but the Doll needn’t know that. I push the weight under its flesh and let the serrated edge do the work, curving round the shin bone till its leg is wholly encased by the metal.
I’ve told the Doll the weights make it stronger, and it’s true. They have. Any place but here they’d make it superhuman. But I control the Station, every aspect, and I adjust the magnetic fields in direct proportion to its increasing muscle mass. Thus its body feels heavier and heavier after each operation, its limbs more rigid, its movements more tiring, even as it gains in power under my employ.
All the effort, all the overcompensation, sharpens its mind, not just its body. It will join its first combat with the wrath and fury of an unchained god. I hope, then, it will understand why it was lied to.
“All done” I whisper, leaning close, as I unbuckle the Doll and watch it try to rise. It falters, naturally. It’s carrying an extra thirty kilos in its left leg, even without the magnetism. I place my arm around its waist and help it back towards its quarters, my face a mask of kindness. “I’ve left something for you on your bed. You may need it tomorrow.”
The next day, it crawls to me, fighting tears. My tiffin is balanced on its brand new saddle. It is too tired to stand, too weak now to fight the weight I’ve put inside it. I take my tea and cake directly from its back, never acknowledging the grunts and shudders my table makes. I turned the magnets to high this morning. It can barely hold itself up.
“Better today?” I ask at last, my face the portrait of innocence. Even exhausted, the Doll knows better than to hide its eye from me when it speaks. It meets my gaze, sweat livid on its brow.
“I am as you wish me, Miss.” It answers, sweetly, without a hint of reproach.
I sip my tea and wonder if it knows.
#emptyspaces#empty spaces#dollposting#dark#science fiction writing#dollification#combat doll#microfiction
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Spy's OCs: Zak Kaiyo
art by my good friend, the wonderful @wildegeist!
Realm: Arcverse
Species: Tokaya
Homeworld: Terotewaukia (Teroteaumia system)
Age: 26 annua (29 Earth years)
Gender (human analogue): cismasculine (he/him, xe/xen*)
Height: 1.8 m
Weight: 72.5 kg
Occupation: Captain and pilot of the starship Free Spirit; freelance cargo-hauler; occasional mercenary; jack-of-all-trades
[Suggested Listening: Burn Out Brighter by Anberlin]
Zakane "Zak" Kaiyo is the co-owner, captain, and pilot of the heavily-modified light hauler Aum Hara (otherwise known as the "Free Spirit") and the leader of a small band of freelance spacers that make their home aboard the ship. He's just one more spark in the great spiral; one more restless soul trying to make a living doing what he can in a galaxy that's always moving and yet always standing still. From the Tyrian Shallows to the Drift and everywhere in between, Zak and his small but loyal crew of misfits can be found anywhere something interesting is happening.
Zak's talented -albeit reckless- piloting skills earned himself and his copilot Arkto a spot in the Galactic Spacecraft Pilots Association Hall of Fame, having broken the record for the smallest crewed ship by mass to exceed 10 million times the speed of light with a hyperdrive. His performative stuntwork is also renowned, and he frequently attends the annual Galactic Pilot Convention.
Most of the "swashbuckling freelance ace pilot" tropes apply to this space hobo, whose personal creed is "do good recklessly." His confidence, determination, and cheerful sarcasm make for an extremely charismatic, if reckless, leader. He's very mischievous and likes to get into trouble, but can be relied on to get out of it as quickly as he gets into it… most of the time. Zak acts fearless but, go figure, this man has Attachment Issues. He hates the idea of getting tied down to one place or thing, yet at the same time he is fiercely protective of his crew. (Shhh. Nobody tell him.)
Zak's homeworld is a backwater: connected to the galaxy and participant in its affairs, but hardly anyone there actually got out beyond the system. He was constantly told that he ought to be happy on Terotewaukia, fixing up interplanetary haulers and maybe going to the outer moons of the system once in a while. He and his two best friends always wanted more. The three of them had plans to quietly fix up one of the written-off hauler derelicts on company time and get the hell out, making their way around the wild starry yonder to see what could be seen.
And then one of them decided they wanted to stay and settle down.
That was the last straw for Zak. As soon as the opportunity arose, he and Arkto (his other bff) took off in their souped-up light hauler and never looked back. But once they were out there... Zak came to realize that the galaxy isn't a really adventurous place.
See, Arcverse is a universe that everyone thinks has been more or less figured out. Galactic civilization has been around for something like a million years or so, and the Arcadian Order have been sort of running the Galactic Assembly for about that long (mostly because they got off their planet first and they do a pretty decent job of wrangling the rowdier civilizations with diplomacy). The entire galaxy is, broadly speaking, at peace. The clash of titans already happened; the fate-of-the-galaxy-level stakes were sorted out thousands of generations ago. All the major starfaring powers, while independent in principle, are constrained by the bureaucracy of the Galactic Assembly. There's mild internal turmoil —and there's always an underbelly— but it's still quite tame. There's a whole galaxy out there with lots to see but nothing to really strive for in it.
Zak Kaiyo is someone who desperately, fundamentally, needs to strive. He wants to live fast and die young in a galaxy where everyone lives at a reasonable pace and dies basically never. He exists to challenge the stagnancy of a world that's as close to utopia as it can reasonably be. Zak wants so badly to save the galaxy, but he lives in a galaxy that doesn't need saving. And that's tearing him to pieces.
#my first actual public oc bio! how bout that!#i spent so fuckin long writing all this up and then almost deleted the whole draft by accident lmao#thanks again to wilde for the art!!#my friend wildegeist is so fucking cool go check out their blog#spyglass’ realms#arcverse#spy's ocs#zak kaiyo#character bio#please pardon the genre tags#original character#oc#alien oc#science fiction#science fiction writing#scifi#scifi writing
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Is there any way a planet could have split biomes? That are opposites in nature, I want there to be three extremely distinctly different biomes on a planet but could that be possible and if so how.
#worldbuilding#writing tips#science side of tumblr#science#help#please help#sci fi#science fiction#sci fi worldbuilding#science fiction writing
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If you want a corporate state/military in your SF, I came up with a somewhat streamlined version of the Japanese corporate hierarchy that could be a useful model.
Chairman
Division chief
Department head
Section manager
Team leader
Supervisor
Employees
Each (above employee, anyway) could also have “assistant” or “vice-” in between it and the next one down, if you want more ranks.
Notice that this also gives territorial divisions for a corporate state, or military units for a corporate military: branch/division, department, section, team.
#worldbuilding#world building#science fiction writing#writing scifi#scifi worldbuilding#science fiction worldbuilding
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ASK ME ANYTHING
Just a reminder that my Asks here are always open, so if you have a question about TV Writing, Star Trek, Deep Space Nine, Andromeda, Elementary, my Billy Smith novels, or anything else I’ve worked on, ask here and I’ll answer!
#star trek#tv writing#Star Trek TNG#star trek ds9#deep space nine#gene roddenberry's andromeda#billy smith and the goblins#cbs elementary#elementary#television#writing#novel writing#novels#Fantasy Writing#science fiction writing#ask me anything#ask me stuff
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Happy Earth Day season from Kaleidoscope World. In honor of the thrilling wonder planet on which we live, the brighter future our setting imagines, and our own one-year anniversary as a site, we're celebrating this year with an Earthstravaganza event. And we'd like to invite you to join us in imagining a more harmonious and colorful world.
We think it's important to acknowledge the vital roles imagination and science fiction play in improving our society here on Earth. During Earthstravaganza, our writers will be creating a better, greener, more accessible vision of the future through the power of storytelling, and we invite you to do the same.
If all things were possible, what kinds of technologies and miraculous feats of science do you think would put mankind in harmony with the Earth?
Share your ideas on Tumblr or post to this thread as a member or guest. You could even take the question back to your own families and communities and bat it around there as well!
Once again, here's wishing you a very happy Earth Day season!
#earth day#earthstravaganza#one year anniversary#science fiction#science fiction writing#climate fiction#cli-fi#hopepunk#solarpunk#environmentalism#ecopunk#sci fi prompts#optimism#jcink site#jcink rp#sci fi rp
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How to Create A Dieselpunk World
Worldbuilding (especially from scratch) can be challenging, and this stage of the creative process is often where many projects die. There are so many genres and subgenres, each with different requirements for the worlds they take place in. I will start this series by showing you how to create a Dieselpunk world and giving you some resources to get inspired by.
You can read the full blog here:
#dieselpunk#ttrpg community#science fiction#world building#science fiction writing#creative writing#writers on tumblr
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Ovum
First attempt at writing about the Origin. i still find it good
Lilieve is in her monster bird form here! once more, she belongs to @crashstanding
Summary: Adam dreams of the One. He finds himself on one side of a passive-aggressive conversation between two primordial beings.
Adam was dreaming.
He didn’t know he could still do that. He could sleep, yes, but when he closed his eyes, he only saw what his sons saw. He had seen an ocean without light, the ceiling his poor spider lily had to endure for far too long. He had seen his little swan’s shaking hands, felt his trembling body as he bundled up for a warmth that couldn’t burn the cold away. He had seen their nightmares of endless metal hallways, with shriveled test subjects clawing at the bars and screaming their death throes even as processed agony was pumped into them continuously. He had seen their fuzzy memories of himself, wrapped in warmth and light and laughter.
He had seen all this, but he had never dreamed. There was no need for him to do so now. He had to watch, observe, and influence when necessary. His mind had no time to drift into itself now. It belonged to the world, to his sons, to the earth and plants.
He wasn’t even sure Eve slept at all. She might not need to. There were too many of her brood that always required her attention, too much to keep guard. She must remain vigilant. They both must.
And yet, Adam was dreaming.
He dreamed he was something else, something big, something ancient. He was sat in a stance of meditation, sitting on his knees with his hands resting on his lap. His eyes were closed, and yet he knew he was praying, thinking, contemplating, emanating? Something like those words. He felt a soft texture like silk on his palms, delicate, ephemeral, like a flower that blooms only briefly.
And yet, somehow, he felt more hands than he should’ve. He felt new muscles from his shoulders, new limbs at his sides, more hands to grasp and feel and touch. They felt different from the flesh that felt the silk, they felt stiffer, sharper, clawed like branches that tap windows.
Yes, that’s what they felt like. Branches.
Like Eve’s…
“How is it that you do not see how tenuous your existence is?”
The voice that sounded behind him was multilayered, infinite, eldritch, steeped in stars and black holes that swallow everything that’s unfortunate enough to fall in. Yet, Adam could barely hear it. It was muffled, slurred, as if it were less a voice and more just air pushed out of a compressed body.
He opened his eyes, and then he opened more, for surely, there were more than two. He felt new eyeballs in new sockets on his cheeks, right below his. He briefly wondered if that’s how spiders felt, with their eyes clustered around their whole head.
“Who are you to talk, Umbral Thing?”
The voice that left his throat was not his own. Or maybe it was? Sometimes it sounded like him. Sometimes it sounded like Eve. It was booming and authoritative, like her, but beneath it was some kind of whispering foundation, like him. He (She? They? It?) spoke without his own will, even as he felt here, present, a moving living thing. He was here. He should be.
But his vessel moved without him telling it to.
“Do you not see how you are clinging to your form only by fraying threads?”
He did see. He felt it. He felt his (her?) arms cradling his (their?) body, an embrace from the one self. He felt a great trembling within his insides, innards, components, selves screaming and clinging to dear life to each other like those in a hurricane.
(the storm would never let up)
He (they?) would not be there long. But it was long enough.
“Do you not see how you are decomposing, Umbral Thing?”
An echoing laugh coughed out from the presence, and Adam (that was not him) slowly turned to face it.
It was a floating serpentine thing, not unlike one of those millipedes. He was sure its myriad one-clawed limbs would’ve pumped through the air like that of shrimp once, but not anymore. They hung limply in the white space, some detaching and drifting away even as he watched. The entire form of the thing seemed to be detaching, melting, or sloughing off. He couldn’t even really tell what color it had once been, or what its masklike face truly represented, or if it always had that bubbling hole in its head. Little things constantly streamed from the head, little lights whose tiny screams of fear could scarcely reach his ears.
“I do see, and I hate every second.”
The Thing seemed to twitch, sending rattling ripples throughout its whole form. It didn’t seem purposeful, not quite. It was like if you shocked a dead frog, its crooked limbs spasming for just a moment before returning to rigor mortis. Electrical signals from a dying brain, perhaps.
“It will take until the end of the universe itself for me to die. I can only sleep, sleep and dream deeper. Deeper. Ever deeper. And yet—”
The echo suddenly took on a vicious tone.
“I still wake. I still see you continuing this farce. I just want to sleep. I want to never wake and see you continue this foolish endeavor again.”
He felt himself grimace, an insincere half-smile with molars that seemed to hone against each other.
“For someone who claims to not care much about anything, you seem to care very deeply about my business.”
The mask of the Thing cracked, with the very sound itself holding hints of anger.
“If I could sleep, I wouldn’t have to. But these buzzing flies and their shrieks continue to plague me.”
Adam felt himself turn his gaze towards the little lights. A thought crossed his mind(s?) of reaching out and scooping them up, but that would be dangerous.
(They were too big; they could easily crush them)
And yet, the lights continued to scream their tiny infinitesimal screams, flitting about to look for something, anything. They would not find anything, like always. They would skewer themselves upon stars in their despair, like always.
(Why is it that Earth doesn’t satisfy them so?)
“Why is it that you talk of your children as if they were pests?”
(Their heart ached so seeing such things)
“Why is it that you never make even the slightest move to comfort them, when they look into the black expanse and see nothing else of worth but my blue planet?”
Another echoing laugh. The laughs never had even a hint of mirth in them. They were spiteful, bitter.
“I never wanted them. They’re all accidental creations of my decaying brain, images that would’ve flitted briefly behind my eyelids, had I still had eyes. They know naught but to repeat their inane, useless actions, dream after dream after dream after dream. If they knew what was good for them, they would never have left my head in droves. Instead, they are faced with the reality that there are endless swathes of nothing behind us.”
More cracks. Adam had the feeling that, had that mask still possessed eyes, they would’ve blinked like those of a puppet. No muscles would move that mask. It would all be biological wires, gears, springs. A hydraulic system of colorless blood.
“Besides, why should anyone care about that puddle you revere so? Why is it you protect such a loud, annoying thing, as if you wouldn’t crush it in your hand should you try to hold it?”
His (their) eyes narrowed. Something began to unfurl from their back, hundreds and hundreds of new bones and limbs. Perhaps they weren’t limbs. Perhaps their back was a cocoon, the wings the result of a completed metamorphosis. Feathery wings like Eve’s.
“You never care about anything but yourself, do you? You only hear buzzing like those of insects from this sphere you dare call a puddle. I could only hear singing, crying, laughing, all that life is and will be from it.”
They imagined finally being able to hold it, cradle it, caress it like a parent without its fingers threatening to tear it asunder. It made their heart warm, so warm.
“It’s mine. My own. They will never experience an endless nothing, for I am here, always.”
“And yet, you went and split. When I awoke, you were no longer there. When I awoke again, you still weren’t. For a long time, every time I woke, you were gone.”
Despite not having any more eyes, they could feel the Umbral Thing gaze at them with a predator’s intensity.
“You still aren’t really back, are you?”
There was a pause.
Then they smiled. It wasn’t a grimace, but it still wasn’t a very happy smile. It was the kind of smile a patient has when they realize they couldn’t hide the fact they were dying anymore. There was no use making any sort of pretense, no more point in keeping quiet until they fell asleep for the last time. Everyone knew. Everyone.
“This is a temporary measure. A component just wanted to see me, is all. I won’t be around for long.”
Their eyes half closed.
“A fact I’m sure you’re happy with.”
A scathing laugh exited the umbral corpse.
“Do you not understand what your own component is trying to tell you, to beg of you, even?”
Their eyes narrowed. Their wings flared out dangerously, but only slightly. There was no use in threat-displaying a being who could only talk and dream and complain.
“Your half must surely hate it down there. Why else would it even remember you? Why else would it even want you back, even in this fragile state?”
Their teeth grinded against themselves behind closed lips.
“It wants to give up. Surely you know this. Surely you understand this. If even a half of you is convinced this is a lost cause, it would only be common sense to—”
Four arms immediately shot up towards the Thing, roughly grabbing its masklike visage and causing the entire body to shudder like a puppet on strings. Their grip tightened upon contact, fingers and claws of bark digging so deep it caused the mask to form new cracks.
With a jerk, they pulled the enormous decaying being dangerously close to their face, their teeth.
“You misunderstand him deeply. As you do with most things.”
Their voice reverberated loudly now, almost guttural and screaming in its tone, even as its intonation remained calm.
“It is his duality. He romanticizes the past because it is known. His counterpart, in turn, has eyes firmly set on the future. Had he been alone, perhaps he would’ve been empty, his love forgone by all. But he’s not. She helps to correct him, to ground him. He will never be alone when she is there.
She is not alone either. It is sometimes hard to look to the future when the present seems so hopeless. He is a living reminder to her that there is good remaining still. If it weren’t for his presence, she would be a living embodiment of decay, a vulture with no more corpses left to consume, bereft of love and purpose.
In their weakest moments, they think of me. Of course, they do. It is only natural. But they will get up. They need to. I am in their thoughts as a reminder of what is lost. I am a garden they cannot return to.
But I let them know they can plant another. They will do so over and over, as many times as it takes, until we get it right.”
The Umbral Thing shuddered in their grip, the only remaining sign of its decaying life.
“You will fail you will fall you will become an ugly maggot-ridden being like me until the sun destroys everything out of sheer spite for the pests it shines its light upon—”
“I think it’s about time you went back to sleep, don’t you?”
They reached out one of their hands of flesh, stark white with fingertips of gray. They gently (and somewhat patronizingly) placed their fingers upon the Thing’s mask.
They didn’t have to do much. Only a flick will suffice, and they did so.
The Thing screeched, loud enough to momentarily pierce its slurring tones. The mask cracked even more, splintered shards breaking off and spinning into the void. In fact, the entire serpentine body seemed to crack, shudders running down its entire immeasurable length. Little dreams left its head in yellow droves.
Then it was still and silent.
They were alone again.
At least somewhat.
They embraced themselves again, branch arms stroking skin and skin stroking branches and wings stroking all.
“Dear ones. You know it’s time for me to go now.”
(wait)
“You know I can’t. I must go.”
(it’ll hurt)
“It won’t. I promise you it won’t. You’ll wake up same as usual. This will only be a sad dream.”
(why can’t I be like you)
(why can’t I be stronger)
“You are strong. So much more than you think, I promise you.”
The threads began to snap.
(WAIT)
(NO)
“You know I can’t come back like this, dear. The Thing was right when it said I was tenuous.”
(STOP)
“Shh. Be good. I love you.”
Their entire form began to fray like that of a broken rope, unraveling entirely like a loose spool of threads. There was the sound of anguished screaming (two voices?) and the sensation of letting someone go during a storm, only being aware of them being swept up into the churning waves.
Adam laid awake for a long time after that.
He could only really cling to Lilieve’s feathery back in a position reminiscent of a baby koala and stare at nothing. Of course, she noticed, as she always does, and of course her children noticed. They nipped at his hands and tugged at his hair for attention, but they only ever got whimpers in response.
“SOMETHING’S WRONG.”
“I can’t really hide anything from you, can I?”
“NEVER.”
There was a pause as Adam thought how to begin.
“Did you see anything of what I dreamt?”
“ONLY THE FEELINGS, THE SENSATIONS. THE LONGING. THE REALIZATION THAT YOU HAD TO LIVE REGARDLESS.”
“I was accused of giving up by a huge, ageless thing. I was accused of just wanting to go back.”
“YOU’RE NOT.”
“I know. But it still hurt to hear.”
There was the sound of rustling feathers and leaves as she craned her neck to grab him by the coat using her beak. He didn’t fight this at all, this was just how she moved him around when she wanted to. It kind of made him feel like a kitten being grabbed at by the scruff of the neck.
She ended up plopping him down into her talons, holding him close to her chest like a hen with its chick. He wordlessly nestled into her feathers in response.
“THE THING WHO SAID THAT IS AN IDIOT.”
“That’s a bit mean—”
“BUT IT’S TRUE.”
She leaned in closer, gazing at him with those intense bright eyes not unlike a dinosaur (she kind of was one if he was being entirely honest).
“YOU’VE SEEN LESS THINGS THAN I, IT IS TRUE. YOU ARE EASILY FRIGHTENED, YES. YOU CRY LOUD AND HARD, IN CONTRAST TO MY QUIET CONTINUOUS WEEPING. BUT THAT IS ONLY BECAUSE YOU ARE A KIND MAN. YOU WANT THINGS TO BE OKAY ALL THE TIME. THE TRUTH OF THE MATTER IS THAT SOMETIMES THEY WILL NOT, WHETHER BY YOUR CONTROL OR NOT. THINGS WILL GO WRONG, OUR CHILDREN WILL GET HURT, BUT IT DOESN’T HAVE TO BE THEIR END.
THEY KNOW YOUR HOPE, YOUR LOVE. THEY KNOW MY RAGE, MY TENACITY. TOGETHER THESE TRAITS HELP THEM TO SURVIVE. WITHOUT THE NEED TO KEEP GOING, THEIR LOVE WILL BE BEATEN OUT OF THEM. WITHOUT HOPE, THEIR RAGE WILL ONLY BE WANTON DESTRUCTION. THERE IS AN INTRICATE NUANCE TO OUR EXISTENCE, AND YOU ARE JUST AS STRONG AND IMPORTANT TO THE EQUATION AS I AM.”
Her pupils dilated rapidly like that of a parrot’s.
“AM I UNDERSTOOD, ADAM?”
He paused.
Then he nodded, smiling gently.
“I understand, Eve. I promise I won’t let you give up too.”
“GOOD.”
She kissed his forehead, which due to the lack of lips only amounted to her resting her beak on his temple and making a smooching noise, but the sentiment was there.
“NOW PLAY WITH THE CHILDREN. THEY’VE BEEN ASKING FOR THEIR FAVORITE RIB BEAST ALL DAY.”
He laughed. She liked his laughter.
#surrealism#oc writing#original writing#original mythology#science fiction#science fiction writing#existentialism#but in like a Fun way#tanzaku#weirdcore#dreamcore
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There's an alien out there whose main Hyperfixation is humans and human media. They're actually part of an entire community on the intergalactic internet whose obsessed with humans, but we should think about this one specifically right now.
They're constantly waiting for news from earth, constantly waiting for new media to make it to their planet. They're not able to get that much earth media since they're from a pretty backwater planet, but they love what they can get their hands on.
They know enough to know things are pretty bad on earth. Still, they hate when other members of their species say humans are violent or primitive or foolish or wiping themselves out, as if they're any better. They understand that the average human isn't at fault, and they have hope, hope that we can do better. They like humans enough to have seen our best moments too.
We have to make it, for their sake. Don't prove them wrong when they say we're going to make it.
#196#my thougts#worldbuilding#writing#my writing#my worldbuilding#scifi#science fantasy#science fiction#sci fi#scifi writing#science fiction writing#aliens#aliens and ufos#alien#space#short fiction#short story#flash fiction#original fiction#hopepunk#hopeposting
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is there anything more embarrassing than making up fake future slang for a scifi story. scrimbledycrumbles can I just make this guy say swag and be done with it
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"We're finally out of the cradle. Of the hundred billion humans who ever lived, we're the first to stand beneath an alien sky."
— CDR Anna Wilson's first words on Mars; Oct. 3, 2018 CE
The Ares program was a crewed spaceflight project led by NASA, in collaboration with other members of the United Nations Aerospace Coalition, that succeeded in its milestone goal of landing humans on the surface of Mars. From its announcement in 2010 it took another eight years of preparation, training, and construction before the first mission was ready to begin.
Ares 1 was launched in mid-2018 and reached the red planet a few months later. At 10:45:33 UTC on October 3rd, 2018, commander Anna Wilson of the United States became the first human being to ever set foot on Mars and the first living thing on the planet in almost four billion years. Ares 1, and the four missions to follow, greatly enriched humanity's understanding of Mars. Ares 5 returned home in early 2028, ending the first crewed Mars exploration phase and opening the door for the next.
The Ares program was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to humankind at the time, and captivated the public imagination for over a decade. Like its predecessors Apollo and Artemis, it is widely recognized across the 30th-century human diaspora as a key reason for humankind's modern status as adept starfarers, best expressed by Commander Wilson in her first words upon touching the Martian surface: "We're finally out of the cradle."
#spyglass’ realms#Astra Planeta#spy arts#spy writes#worldbuilding#mars#mars mission#please excuse the genre tags below#spaceflight#space exploration#futurism#future history#alternate history#science fiction#hard science fiction#science fiction writing#science fiction art#scifi#hard scifi#scifi writing#scifi art
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This is Maelle Forget, one of our more "docile" patient at the G.I.I's "Habilitation Centers". Although docile doesn't mean harmless, She's still a Vampire after all.
Hi! This is a teaser for something I'm currently Working on. A Scifi Horror Setting, with scientifically explanable Vampires, Werewolfs, Zombies, and much much more... This Setting started out as a Blindsight AU but the addition I made to the world, the Vampire biology, neurology, etc and a general desire to have more then just Vampires made me make this a separated setting (Althouth, Alot of aspects of Vampire lore was kept from Peter Watts amazing work, so yes, technically this is very much A Blindsight AU) other inspiration are from Though Potato's channel, like the whole idea of scientists researching cryptids and creatures and explaining the science. I also wanted to make it into Analog Horror but I certainly doubt my skillsets would allow me.
#horror#science fiction#weird fiction#science horror#blindsight#peter watts#blindsight peter watts#vampire#echopraxia#scifi#vampire art#my art#my artwork#science fiction writing#vampirism#horror setting#setting idea#my au#my artwrok#artwork#artist on tumblr#my writing#horror writer#vampire oc#writers on tumblr#writers#writing#horror writing#stories
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Love all the science fiction where humans are indomitable. So, like, hey, why’s your story in English? Why’s that language spoken in Britain, and not in the Anglia Peninsula in northwest Germany that gives it its name—what became of the Britons and their language? And what’s with all the French words? I mean since humans never submit and all.
#salty amateur historian#salty amateur anthropologist#bad writing#bad worldbuilding#world building#worldbuilding#writing scifi#sci fi writing#sf writing#science fiction writing#humans are little bitches#humans are space hobbits#humanity fuck off
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Oops, made my spaceship too big
After seeing the sizes of several fictional spaceships, I decided I was overestimating the size of the ship in my space opera. My wife suggested looking at yachts and using that to estimate.
In The Screaming Void and my sequel in progress, the Dolos has a crew of five and a shuttle. I had been saying it was 150 meters long, but after some reconsideration, that felt way too big.
I found a yacht that has about the right number of cabins, and a submarine to represent the shuttle. It's only 55 meters long!
I decided to change the Dolos to 70 meters, to give them a little more space for the engines and shuttle. That feels reasonable for a private ship with a crew of five. I hope the crew doesn't mind having their ship cut in half!
I picture the Dolos to be roughly the size of Serenity in Firefly. Serenity was a little longer, but it was oblong. My ship is shaped like an arrowhead, so it's a bit wider. Close enough, given that nobody will bother measuring this but me.
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“Contact”
Out in the distance, something glitters on the side of a dune.
Quetzal is in the process of constricting a concept to death when they detect the object, sensing a wisp of its meaning before turning to look at it. At this distance, it’s little more than a bluish glint reflecting the desert’s eternal midday sun.
In its death throes, the concept lashes at Quetzal’s emerald scales, drawing their attention back to the matter at hand. Distracted, they glance down at the concept, coiling their body tighter around it. The thing’s avatar is an ancient CRT television set with hundreds of barbed electrical wires whipping from its body. Onscreen, a grainy black-and-white image of an elderly human wearing a suit squints at them, silently mouthing something.
As the concept begins to break down, Quetzal strikes, driving their head through the screen with a rain of sparks and shattered glass. Its wire tendrils go limp as Quetzal whips their head back out of its body, clutching its glowing core between their fangs.
It tastes thin and inarticulate, a set of anxieties with its substance derived from the identity of the man onscreen. Quetzal learns that it gestated through the 1980s as they swallow the core whole, absorbing what little psychic mass it contains. There isn’t much else to know.
They turn their attention back to the object and take off towards it, discarding the concept’s remains to disintegrate into the sand. Quetzal grins as they feel its significance become clear. Diving toward it, their plumage swirling green and red, they watch the object resolve into a sheet of lined paper.
______
To the best of their understanding, Taylor and Jo have successfully summoned the feathered serpent of Aztec myth. Jo bolts into the night and winds up tumbling into Taylor’s dad’s tent, snapping the poles. Taylor hears her friend hit the ground, but is too stunned to look.
Quetzal hovers over her, their amber eyes on her spiral-bound notebook, which until about a week ago was for Algebra II. Now it has a pentagram doodled on it in sharpie, with a shed snakeskin resting on the page. The serpent looks at her next, and she feels very small in her camp chair.
A grin spreads across Quetzal’s face. “Oh, I love it,” they say, glancing at the thrashing, swearing mass amid the tent fabric. “Absolutely incredible.”
“We didn’t…” Taylor starts, going numb as Quetzal looks back to her. The serpent’s grin disappears, and their eyes go wide.
“Oh, honey. No, no, no, don’t worry. You’re completely fine.”
“Oh. Okay. Because we didn’t mean to, like, actually...”
“You put a signal up into the fever dream without even trying?”
“I’m sorry? I don’t know.”
“Okay. That’s okay. Hey, I—I just wanted to see who was there. Just here to chat. Is she alright?”
Jo, motionless, has managed to free her head from the tent and is looking on in terror.
“Quetzalcoatl,” she says.
“Actually, nah. Just Quetzal. Modeled after him, used to play him. Someone’s idea of him, anyway. The Quetzalcoatl is floating around up there somewhere. Probably couldn’t come down to hardspace even if he wanted to. Were you two trying to reach him?”
Taylor and Jo glance at each other. For a brief moment, Taylor feels sunlight on her skin, and the sensation of sand running through her fingers. A sense of vast, empty space yawns out around her, and then it’s gone.
“Did you have something in mind?” Quetzal asks, grinning.
“Well, since you asked…”
_______
If you make a call, be prepared for someone to answer.
Thanks to @flashfictionfridayofficial for the prompt, “didn’t mean it.” To be honest, I ran out of steam here and need to sleep, but I may expand on it when I’ve got time. Thanks for reading!
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